Tag Archives: thoughts

Eight Thoughts I Have While Using The NoseFrida

You’re sharing cuddles wth your baby when all of a sudden it sounds like a little piglet entered the room. Upon further investigation, you realize it was your little cutie pie who’s all stuffed up. Time to get the NoseFrida out!

Nose Frida

When a friend of mine first told me about this product that I “had to get” when I was doing my registry, I quickly added it to both my Amazon and Target registries, but then I looked it up. You suck the snot out of your baby’s nose! EW! I was quick to dismiss it, and put on a regular bulb instead.

It wasn’t until my baby shower, a relative of mine actually had hers there and demonstrated on her baby. The boogies don’t come anywhere near your mouth, and it’s way more functionable than the bulb.  I put it back on my registry to remember to purchase it down the road when baby arrived.

Ever since buying it, I’ve had a love/hate relationship with it. It gets the job done really well so mommy loves it, but Sloane is a giant wiggle worm.  I’ve turned it into somewhat of a production, telling my six month old that she’s, “getting a visit from Auntie Frida,” and usually follow it up with “because she’s hungry,” or “she wants to eat your boogies!” Yeah, I know, she doesn’t understand what I’m saying, but her face still lights up. By the way, the Aunt Frida reference is because I had a Great Aunt Freida growing up!

Like I said, it’s a production! Here are eight thoughts that go through my head as I’m NoseFrida-ing her:

  1. It’s that time…I hope this goes well! maekg
  2. Please, no wiggling! wiggling baby
  3. And, let’s keep the screaming to a minimum. Pretty little liars aria
  4. OK, so far so good. whew
  5. How have I gotten nothing out so far? louis-c-k
  6. Oh, wait. Here it comes. tumblr_inline_noa26r9rbm1qezleh_500
  7. OMG, look at those boogies! nene leakes
  8. SUCCESS! brush your shoulders off

 

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Pale and Healthy is Beautiful

Growing up in Long Island in a sea of Italian-Americans with tan skin was difficult as a pale-skin Jewish girl with Russian ancestry. The girls were always holding their arms side by side to see whose arm was tanner. I looked on, green with envy, as I was connected to the arm the loser from that contest held her arm up to to “feel better” about their “lack-of-tan.”

From an early age, my parents, grandparents, and doctors all lectured me to “schmear” sunscreen as my milky skin burns easily, so much so, I was the only kid in the kiddie pool rockin’ a bonnet. As I got older and it became my responsibility to take care of my skin, all the years of lectures went down the toilet. I was brainwashed by my pigment-blessed friends that all I needed to do was get a “base” then the tan would come. But it never did.

Even though in the back of my mind, I always knew I’m not capable of tanning, I still tried. I’ve never seen the inside of a tanning bed, or a tanning salon, even though my best of friends were signing up for punch cards at the nearest Beach Bum, which I desperately coveted. I covered up my jealousy by declaring that Beach Bum sold cancer in a box, and I was quite fine being pale and healthy.

But I wasn’t healthy. I was spending my summers outside all day as a camp counselor not putting on sunscreen. I practically rebelled against the substance. One painful summer at a three-day dance camp, I had to sit out a day because the sun burn I got from the day before got me sick. Sun poisoning at its finest.

I learned my lesson, until I forgot how much it hurt. On the outside I was proclaiming that I don’t mind being pale, I look fine as-is, but in reality, I was arguing with my now husband on every vacation that I don’t need an SPF higher than 30, when it is blatantly obvious that I shouldn’t be allowed in the sun without some sort of sun protective shield.

Last summer I reached an all time low in my quest to take in the sun.  On a trip to Puerto Rico for my best friend’s bachelorette party, somewhere I’ve already been so I knew to heavy up on the lotion, but didn’t as much as I should have. The morning before heading out to the beach, I lathered up my 30 SPF, then took a nap on the beach for a measly half hour.  My friends all thought I looked red by the time I woke up, but I didn’t really feel anything, especially because I jumped right in the water. As the day went on, I started to feel it. I pulled my towel under a palm tree and remained there for the rest of the day.

It didn’t really hit me until we were grabbing dinner. We got out of the car, and I felt dizzy and nauseous, and headed back in the car to wait for them. I tried to lay down, but I couldn’t find a position that was comfortable since my whole body was on fire.

By the time we got back to the hotel, I was done. The girls got ready to go out, while I lathered up in aloe.  I lay in bed naked covered in aloe gel, crying, that at 30 years old I should know better. I was mad at myself for being irresponsible, and was upset I missed my best friend’s night out.

I barely got any sleep that night because of the pain. At one point I got up to use the bathroom and reapply aloe.  As I was in there, I began to feel dizzy, so I finished up and began to walk back to the bed. Next thing I knew I woke up on the floor. I had fainted. This was not the way I was planning to faint on this trip!

The outcome of this burn hit me harder than any other. I was embarrassed that as an adult, I had let this happen to myself, when I knew damn well the consequences.  I never want to feel the pain of a sunburn again, nor do I ever want to walk around ashamed as an adult that I have one, and lastly, I do not want skin cancer.

To my fellow fair-skin beauties: You are you, and you are beautiful. Keep that flawless skin healthy.

Morning, Laurie.